


Birds with Missions

by completelyhopeless



Series: Two Circus Birds [18]
Category: DCU, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen, Mission Fic, Some Humor, the mission ended up being shorter and not as much a part of this as it should be
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-13
Updated: 2015-01-13
Packaged: 2018-03-07 10:14:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3171125
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/completelyhopeless/pseuds/completelyhopeless
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>S.H.I.E.L.D. has an off the books mission, and Phil Coulson has only one team he wants to use for it. Hawkeye and Nightwing make a brief stop in Gotham before they take it.</p>
<p>Or how Clint ends up with S.H.I.E.L.D.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Birds with Missions

**Author's Note:**

> The idea of having the boys do a mission for S.H.I.E.L.D. was too good not to do, and it finally put the pieces together for me. 
> 
> Plus there was an opportunity to get more MCU characters into this world, and that was also good.

* * *

“You wanted to see me, sir?”

“Sit down, Coulson.”

Phil did, uncomfortable with the action. Director Fury never invited anyone to sit when it was good. He didn't usually ask anyone to sit, period. Phil spent most of his sitting time either at his desk or at his strangely routine meetings with Alfred Pennyworth and Lucius Fox.

“If you're going after Fox, I think we'll have a problem. And I don't just mean between me and you, sir,” Phil said. “I know you know who he works for, and I know we don't want to start a war with that man. He may not be on the Index—”

“He is.”

Phil nodded. He hadn't really expected otherwise. S.H.I.E.L.D. monitored everyone, and Fury had extended that far more than any director in the past. “What did you need me for, Director?”

“We've noticed some activity. Alien technology. Something we've both seen before.”

Phil frowned. He had a bad feeling about this. “The sonic technology?”

Fury nodded. “It's back. As far as our intelligence network knows, we stopped the supply of this years ago. We found it all and shut it down despite... setbacks.”

“That is an amusing way of describing what happened when I was in Gotham, sir.”

Fury looked at him, no amusement in his face. “I do not consider what happened in Gotham amusing. It was handled poorly at best, and if I had been in charge of that operation, it would not have been allowed to be sabotaged by two kids.”

Clint Barton and Dick Grayson were not ordinary kids, but Phil kept his opinions on that to himself. He figured Fury knew about the unauthorized monitoring he did of Barton, but if the director objected to it, he did not say so.

“Where is the sonic technology?”

“The best place possible. Somewhere even S.H.I.E.L.D. isn't supposed to operate.”

Of course it was. For all S.H.I.E.L.D's reach, they couldn't go everywhere. They did their best, but some places were unwilling to let them assist or were even their enemies. He had a feeling that this was a case of the technology being in a place that was outrightly hostile with S.H.I.E.L.D.

“So we can't send in agents.”

“Not unless we want to get them killed and start a diplomatic incident.”

Phil let out a breath. “You want to find agents for a high-risk mission that is almost as good as suicide. You want _me_ to do that.”

Fury leaned back in his chair. “You are one of the most competent men I know, and I trust your assessment of the situation and who to use for it. You have a talent for finding the right man for the job—and many times, it's you.”

“Or the right woman.”

Fury nodded. “Yes. You were right about Hill. Now, take this file and find me a team that can handle it.”

Phil made no move to take it. “Sir, operating outside our jurisdiction—”

“Have you forgotten what that technology is capable of doing, Coulson?”

“No,” Phil said. He had spent weeks with two boys who'd been rendered deaf by the things, and that was actually a minor injury in comparison to the destruction both he and Fury knew the sonic technology could create. “I haven't.”

“Good. Give me your recommendations within the hour.”

Phil shook his head. “I don't need an hour. I know who I'd send right now.”

“I'm not going to like this, am I?”

“Sir, Barton and Grayson both have experience with this technology. They have the kind of background and training that our agents _wish_ they could have. They may be young, but that doesn't negate their skills. They're also both freelance and would not be traced back to S.H.I.E.L.D. You want a small team that can get in and out undetected? They're it. Barton usually works solo, but Grayson split from his mentor not long ago. It's a perfect opportunity.”

“Hawkeye is an assassin.”

“We employ dozens of them.”

“Robin is—”

“Nightwing,” Phil corrected. Fury gave him a look. “Grayson took on a new codename after the split from his mentor. And while he lacks Hawkeye's talent for sniping, he makes up for it in hand-to-hand combat. He knows multiple forms of martial arts and is a trained acrobat.”

“They're kids who played at heroes.”

“No, they were damn good heroes. Now they're adults, they've got skills we can use, and they already know how to work as a fluid team. They consistently go up against greater numbers and come out alive. This is the team we want. I have said from the beginning, from that botched mission in Gotham that S.H.I.E.L.D. should recruit them. This is our chance. We need to take it.”

Fury leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk. “And what if they aren't inclined to take you up on this recruitment offer?”

“They will,” Phil said. “Remember, they have experience with this technology. It's personal for both of them. They have a stake in shutting it down and making someone pay for the fact that Hawkeye lost his hearing.”

“If this thing is that personal—”

“You said you trusted my assessment,” Phil reminded him. “These two are the ones you want.”

* * *

Jason turned the arrow over in his hands, telling himself he was crazy. This had to be some kind of trap. It had to be. He had to be stupid to fall for this, to listen to that note. He shouldn't do this, but he couldn't ignore it, either. He was Robin, and he knew he had to keep an eye on these guys in his city, just like Batman would. They were a threat, and he would handle it.

“There is nothing like a bowl of death by chocolate ice cream,” Dick said, sliding into the booth next to him.

“He's lying. This? So much better,” Clint said, slurping off his spoon as he crashed into the seat across from him.

“That looks disgusting,” Jason said, his nose wrinkling up. At least he was across the table and didn't have to smell it. “How can you eat that?”

“He got a hard head and an even harder stomach,” Dick answered, shaking his head as Clint grinned at him. “You should have seen what I got him to eat when we were kids. Alfred used words no butler should ever say in front of children when he saw what was coming out of that guy's stomach. Bruce just glared at us.”

“All night long. I swear, that is what I remember the most from that night, him glaring like that.”

Jason shook his head. “You two are insane.”

“Babs tells us that all time,” Dick said, smiling. He took another big bite of his ice cream and shoved it in his mouth. “How've you been, Little wing?”

“Don't call me that.”

“Grumpy's got a point,” Clint said. “Can't call him that when he's in street clothes. You need a different name for him in them.”

“Those are not street clothes. That's a dorky school uniform,” Dick said. He shook his head. “I do not miss wearing mine. I hated that place. How are you doing there, Jaybird? You doing okay? Those first few weeks in preppy hell can be tough.”

Jason snorted. “What would you know about it? You've got medals and trophies in glass cases. Honor roll plaques. Everyone hails the great Dick Grayson. Why don't they have an award for you being the biggest dick in the world?”

“I've got one. It's back at the safehouse,” Dick said, and Jason frowned. “I'm not kidding. Clint gave it to me. And just because I had a bunch of awards doesn't mean I didn't hate every minute I spent at that school. Well, I liked when Babs and Clint were around and we were getting into trouble, but that's it. I got the awards because I had to, because it was expected, because I always had something to prove to them.”

“Yeah, that Bruce didn't take you in because he was a pervert.”

Jason felt the booth shake when it was bumped. Clint glared at Dick as he leaned down to rub his leg. Dick shook his head, putting down his spoon and turning to Jason. “I still haven't stopped hating when people say that's why Bruce took me in. You're going to hear it a lot, too, especially since you're the second boy—well, third—fourth—whatever—you're there after me, after I apparently ran off. It's gonna be ugly for you if it isn't already. I know how that goes.”

“Even I do,” Clint said, and Jason looked over at him. He shrugged. “Bruce took me in because Dick was my friend. That didn't stop people from thinking the wrong thing about Bruce and me or my brother. Hell, my _brother_ accused Bruce of it and he lived with us.”

“We made something for you,” Dick said, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a book.

“You're kidding, right? Do I look like someone who reads a lot to you?”

“You'll want this,” Clint said. “That book is like gold.”

“It's a survival guide,” Dick explained, tapping the flimsy cover. “Everything Clint and I learned about the teachers and principals at the school, about the board of directors, about Alfred and Bruce and ways to get around them when we needed to as well as a few tips on criminals, hoods, thugs, and Justice League members. Oh, and a few things about the Titans I swore I wouldn't tell anyone.”

“You broke a promise?”

Dick forced a smile. “If there is anything I know well, it is how being Robin can affect you, how much it takes and how high the cost is. I know Bruce, and I know what his distance does and how much it hurts. I know how being Robin can be as much a prison as it is freedom. It almost broke me, and I don't want it doing that to you.”

Jason blinked. “I don't understand. Why don't you hate me? I hate you. I'm so sick of being compared to you, to always being second best and unwanted.”

“You're not unwanted. You replaced me, and you couldn't do that if you weren't wanted.”

“Dick, I think I should handle this one,” Clint said. “After all, I'm the expert on what it's like when Bruce only wants you around and not anyone else.”

“That is not—”

“Bruce is an idiot. Remember that first and foremost. Great detective, but absolute moron when it comes to feelings. I don't know how many times I got in his face and pointed out what he was doing with Dick and how screwed up it was. It doesn't always work, just like it doesn't always work when Alfred talks to him or when Babs does,” Clint said. “Something went wrong when Bruce's parents died and he decided to wage a war on crime. He doesn't know how to handle basic emotions, and he's not even that good at his fake thing for the playboy act he puts on. I don't know why women don't see through it.”

“That would be because most of the women Bruce attracts with that side of his personality are lacking a few things upstairs as well,” Dick said. “Or they have no self-esteem whatsoever. Remember all those girls that threw themselves at us just because we were at a Tony Stark party and they figured we must be worth something?”

“Yep,” Clint said. “We were a little too busy getting drunk and blowing up half of New York to take advantage of that, though.”

“Please, the only reason we would have done it was because we were too drunk to have any self-respect, either,” Dick said, rolling his eyes. He laughed, covering Jason's ears. Jason shoved his hands off. “Sorry, kid. You shouldn't hear that kind of talk.”

“Right.”

“Let Alfred teach you to be a proper gentleman to the ladies,” Dick told him. “He will be so disappointed if you don't listen.”

“But be careful, because if you're not, then junior prom is only a step away from marriage,” Clint muttered.

Dick snorted. “That wasn't just Alfred. That girl was so dead set on being the future Mrs. Barton that she practically kidnapped Clint and made him go—”

“And then dated my brother.”

“Ouch.”

Clint shrugged. “I didn't like her anyway. She had an annoying laugh.”

“Like that cartoon woodpecker.”

“What?”

“Page seventy-eight or so, the warning about when Bruce tries to connect to you as a child and goes for outdated cartoons and kids movies because he can't relate. There's a whole section on Woody the Woodpecker,” Dick said. Then he swore loud enough to make everyone in the restaurant look at them. He flushed and lowered his head. “Now I have that laugh stuck in my head. Again.”

Clint just laughed.

Jason frowned. “You two really are like brothers, aren't you?”

“Yes.”

Something beeped, and Dick grimaced, passing his bowl to Jason. “Sorry, that's our cue. Bruce will be here any second, and we don't need a scene. Or an arrest. Take care, little brother. Call us if you need anything.”

“I won't.”

Dick nodded. “I know. But you should.”

* * *

“You stood us up.”

Barbara smiled, rising from her desk chair and crossing around the counter to hug both boys in turn. She knew she wasn't the reason she was being spoiled by seeing them again so soon after the last time, but she'd take what she could get.

“I couldn't get anyone to cover my shift,” she said, taking off her glasses. “How is Jason?”

“I think he's warming up to us,” Dick said with a smile while Clint's eyes went to the ceiling, and she tried not to notice that he was planning his exit. She didn't think Clint trusted anyone other than Dick not to turn him in. “The ice cream definitely melted, at least.”

She laughed. “Only you.”

Dick shrugged. “I told him to call. He says he won't. Bruce is treating him okay, isn't he?”

“He's fine, Dick. You know Bruce wouldn't hurt him,” Barbara promised. “Well, other than his whole emotional distance thing that is still infuriating. It's been okay. Jason is doing fine. He's still angrier than I'd like, and I'm not all that comfortable with Bruce teaching him to use his rage like he has been, but Jason isn't you or Clint. He needs a different way.”

Dick's eyes unfocused, looking away to something she couldn't see. “I guess. I'm just glad you're there to watch over him.”

“I'm not sure how much longer I can be, at least not as a certain girl in costume,” Barbara admitted. “I've got college and this job and I don't think I can balance them with going out every night like I have been. I'm good, but even I can tell I'm feeling the strain.”

“You have to do what's best for you,” Clint said. “Doesn't matter what anyone else thinks—and don't say you're a coward or weak for hanging up the mask. Sometimes it's the right thing to do.”

“Babs,” Dick said, a bit of suspicion in his voice. “Is the job something you want to do or is it a part of your cover or do you need money that badly?”

“College is expensive.”

“Why the hell isn't Bruce paying for it? With all you do for him, it's the least that he could do.”

“I don't need charity—”

“Either Bruce mans up and pays for your tuition or I will,” Clint said, an edge to his voice. “And you know what I do for a living.”

She sighed. “I don't want charity. I want to make my own way. And I do not want you killing for me, Clint. I can handle this.”

Dick touched her arm. “If giving up the nightlife is what you want, then we'll respect it. If you have to give it up because of your finances, that's different. I don't have unlimited resources, but there is still money in my trust fund. I know you don't want charity, and I love that you make your own way, but you shouldn't have to give up something you love because money is forcing the issue. That's all we're saying.”

“Though I still think Wayne should pay for it. He's got the money.”

She shook her head. “Fine. I won't let money decide anything. You two better go, though, because I'm sure Bruce has figured out where you are now.”

Dick nodded, pulling her into another hug, and she smiled as he stepped back, squeezing her hand. He let go, and Clint caught her for a brief hug before they both ran for the door. She leaned against her counter and sighed.

“Wow, Gordon. I didn't know you had _two_ boyfriends,” her coworker said. “Two hot boyfriends. How do you do it?”

She rolled her eyes. “Anna, really. They're like brothers to me, both of them.”

“Your loss,” Anna said, and then her smile got wide. “Hey, can I have their number?”

“No.”

* * *

“Alfie. Long time no see.”

“Amusing,” the Englishman said, turning his cup around on his saucer. “However, that statement is as inaccurate as your nickname for me is and as irritating as that near sing-song rhyme you just made.”

“Oh, you missed us,” Clint said, taking the chair next to Lucius. “If you didn't, you wouldn't have stayed away when I shot an arrow in front of Jason earlier. You would have made sure you picked him up and drove him home instead of letting him come eat ice cream with us.”

Dick nodded as he claimed the other seat. “Really, the only one who doesn't want us here is Bruce, and we both know it. Otherwise we wouldn't have come back.”

“I do think it admirable, your attempts to watch over Master Jason. Neither he nor Master Bruce appreciate it, but is nevertheless quite noble of both of you,” Alfred told them, smiling as he sipped from his tea.

Clint rolled his eyes. “Noble and I went separate ways a while back.”

“Don't mind him. He's just getting sick of the Robin Hood comparisons,” Dick said, smiling. “How have you been, Lucius?”

“Good, thank you. How are you? Any recurrence of the nightmares or panic attacks?”

“No.”

Clint kicked Dick's chair with his foot. “Liar. You still have nightmares.”

“Not the ones I was having,” Dick corrected. “It's not the same. I don't see Bruce trying to kill me every night like I was. I see the usual—Joker, Two-Face, Swordsman, my parents—and I don't have them every night and you are one to talk. You have that dream where you kill Barney instead of just wounding him almost every night.”

“I hate you.”

“No, you don't,” Dick said. “You just hate that I know you as well as I do. And I feel the same way about you knowing me as well as you do sometimes.”

Alfred cleared his throat. “I do wish you would allow me to arrange a meeting between you and Master Bruce on neutral ground to allow you all to clear the air and settle matters.”

Dick shook his head. “No. Bruce doesn't want to reconcile. He still has it in his head that all we did while we were gone was kill, and until he realizes he's wrong—and Bruce never admits to being wrong, he will be determined to bring me to justice.”

“I may be able to help with that.”

“Coulson?”

Clint watched him sit down like he was expected, and he looked over at Alfred and Lucius, confirming that they were used to the other man being there for these meetings of theirs. Great. The fake tutor had befriended them. The suit was supposedly their friend.

Coulson adjusted his jacket. “I have a job I'd like to discuss with both of you.”

Dick shook his head. “I am not interested in working with a government agency. I'm still figuring things out, and frankly, Coulson, you could not afford me.”

“I didn't think money was of interest to you.”

“It's not,” Clint said. “You still can't afford us.”

“It's about sonic technology. The same technology you both were exposed to when you were still children.”

“Damn.”

Clint leaned back in his chair. “Who do we get to shoot?”

* * *

“Are you sure about this?” May asked, frowning as she watched her passengers approach the plane. “I know why S.H.I.E.L.D. can't go in there, I know why we're not going in there, why we need an off the book team, but there has to be a better way.”

“There isn't.” 

“We're talking about an unsanctioned mission into a hostile country without an extraction team. Do you want them dead?”

“No,” Phil answered with a faint smile. As annoying as the boys were, he did not want them dead. They had tormented him when he was their tutor, but he could still appreciate their skills and even some of their humor. He had gotten a good laugh out of what they'd done to Batman during their prank war—it was even more amusing told to him in Pennyworth's dry English tones. “I don't.” 

“Then why pick them? Those two are children.”

Phil shook his head. Barton and Grayson were not children. They hadn't been for a long time. “They're a lot older than they look. And they act. Those two have been through a lot.”

“We are talking about the same kids that toilet papered your office, right?”

“Yes, we are, and don't think that I don't know that you helped them,” Phil said. “Someone had to give them access to S.H.I.E.L.D, and it was not me.”

May smiled. “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

“I'm not risking the lives of your new prank buddies because I think they can't handle it or because they can be written off,” Phil told her. “I am sending them in because they are a team that works well together and is capable of getting in and out on their own without dying. I expect them back before their scheduled rendezvous. They'll get it done.”

“This isn't about your comic book obsession, is it? Robin Hood another one of your heroes?” She shook her head. “They are _not_ Captain America. They have some skill for pranks, but that doesn't qualify them for this. I like them, but I don't think they're up for this.”

“Barton can shoot. I've seen trained snipers without his kind of accuracy.”

“And Grayson?”

“That kid could probably jump out of the plane without a parachute and nail the landing.” Phil looked at her. “You still willing to fly them in?”

“Yes.”

“Then that's really all that matters, isn't it?”

* * *

“Do you think S.H.I.E.L.D. is run by smart people or dumb people?”

Clint laughed in Dick's ear, and he had to smile when he heard it. Strangely, that was comforting, one of the best parts of doing what they did. They could and did communicate without words, even without their own special form of sign language, but it was good to hear his friend and brother in his ear all the same.

“Dumb people, because they hired us,” Clint answered, laughing. “And smart people—because they hired us.”

“Sounds about right. You see any movement from where you are?”

“Nothing. This is starting to remind me of that time we got so bored on stakeout we started redesigning Batman's suit and you wanted to go get crayons so we could get the right color for it.”

Dick laughed. “It is important to know the exact shade of pink we were dealing with. Batman was about ready to drop us both off the roof for arguing pink versus magenta. Though the color you wanted to use was salmon.”

“It was not.”

“You are colorblind as well as deaf.”

“You know, I could bulls-eye you from right here.”

“You won't, even if I did make a dumb comment. I'm sorry. The frustration is getting to me. I was a lot better at this whole waiting game before the nanobots,” Dick said. He let out a breath. “I don't know, Hawkeye. I don't think we should have taken this job, even if it was our former tutor that did the hiring.”

“Something up, Nightwing? I thought you said there wasn't any activity down where you are.”

“There isn't. Just... residual paranoia from all those years running around in a cape,” Dick said. “It's been nagging at me since Coulson told us on the plane that we didn't have an extraction team.”

“You don't really think he sent us in here to die, do you?”

“I don't know.” Dick said. He couldn't put a finger on what he was feeling. He had been in the field since the nanobots—before and after their removal—so it wasn't like he could blame the hyper-PTSD that came with them for what he was feeling now. “Maybe I'm still off because of what happened. I did tell Lucius I wouldn't be examined again, which was probably not the wisest thing to do.”

“You and wise do not belong in the same sentence.”

Dick wasn't going to argue that. He knew he wasn't wise. Alfred was, he was about the only person Dick would say fit that description. Bruce was smart, but not wise. He was too out of touch with emotions to be wise. “I don't think waiting out here is going to get us the answers we need.”

“Yeah, but we don't have any idea how many men are inside.”

“You worried about me, Hawkeye?” Dick couldn't help asking. “You know I can handle myself.”

“Doesn't mean I'm in any hurry to see my best friend get captured again,” Clint said. “Or to watch him die.”

“Not going to die. See you soon.”

“You're a dick, Nightwing.”

“Does not have the same ring to it when you use my codename.”

* * *

“You got eyes on them yet?”

“You really are worried.”

“I can't help it if your paranoia is contagious,” Clint said, studying the building with a frown. He knew of no better vantage point than where he now stood, but he didn't like it. He wasn't close enough to do any good if he was _outside_ the building. Dick was inside, at risk, and Clint couldn't back him up from where he was.

He had to get closer.

“I will be fine. You know I learned how to be a ninja from Batman.”

“Don't ever speak of him like an endorsement,” Clint said. Maybe Bruce had never laid a hand on Dick, maybe he'd never raised a fist against _either_ of them like Swordsman had, but that didn't mean that he would ever forgive Bruce for their childhood. He'd shut Clint out and he'd played Dick like a yo-yo, pulling him close and pushing him away. He'd used Dick as his conscience, but he'd never actually _listened_ to him. They were supposed to be partners, but that was not how Bruce had ever treated Dick.

“For all his flaws, Batman is good at what he does,” Dick said. “Alright—I've got something. Looks like a storage vault. I'm gonna drop down and get a better look. If something goes wrong—”

“I'm coming after you in five minutes, and I will bring this building down on top of them if anything happens to you. We'll burn this place to the ground.”

“You're scary when you're angry.”

“Damn right I am. Don't make me come in after you.”

“Okay,” Dick said, and Clint knew the grin that had to be on his face, just as he knew that he needed to move. His friend was going to be in trouble in less than a minute. Clint didn't have a lot of time.

He lined up an arrow and fired it, watching the grappling hook as it lodged in the other building. He swung across, landing on the rooftop and moving toward the vent opening. He didn't like small spaces, but he'd deal. Anything to keep Dick safe.

Even from himself.

* * *

“You don't seem to be as worried as I think you should be,” the man in the combat suit said, leaning across the table. Dick looked at his hands, trying to make out what that tattoo was supposed to say. Must have been a different language but he didn't recognize it, either, and he knew a lot of languages thanks to Bruce.

Dick shrugged. What these people really did not understand was that being a hostage was a surprisingly effective way to get information. Everyone who had him in this position underestimated him. He used it more than once, even though he hated it. He had been a captive of psychopaths too many times to be comfortable doing this.

“If you were going to live, you could have gone back to tell your bosses not to send their agents into our country. They know this.”

Dick shook his head. “I don't think they do because I don't have a boss.”

“Don't bother denying it. We know S.H.I.E.L.D. sent you.”

“No, you don't.”

“You are experienced operatives.”

“Not so much.”

“You use codenames. Hawkeye—”

“Yeah, I made that one up when I was eight, I think. Or thirteen. I'm not really sure because my birth was never registered so officially I don't exist,” Dick said with a smile. He knew it wasn't quite true—they'd given him an official birthdate when they gave his guardianship over to Bruce Wayne. He used it, like Clint used his, but if Dick was honest about it, that day didn't feel right, even if Alfred made a good fuss over him and even got Bruce involved in the past.

“Sure you did. And Nightwing?”

“That one I can't take credit for. I got it from Superman.”

“You know Superman?”

Dick nodded. “He's my uncle.”

“You're lying.” Combat suit moved over around the table, trying to unsettle Dick by walking behind him. He was not scared of that. It was useful, if he wanted it to be. “Call your friend.”

“I can't. You broke my radio, remember?”

“What's your real name, Nightwing?”

Laughing, Dick craned his neck to look at the guy. “Remember how I said I don't exist? I don't have a real name. Then again, with all the sonic equipment you have around here, it's not a surprise that you're a bit deaf.”

“You know about the sonic equipment.”

“How stupid do you think I am?” Dick asked. “Why the hell do you think I'm here?”

“You're telling me why you're here?”

“No, I'm saying you're stupid.”

Combat suit moved to hit him, but Dick dodged it, moving out of his chair and getting behind the man, wrapping an arm around his neck and slamming him into the table before the guy could react. “See? Stupid. Everyone _always_ underestimates the hostage. Now, you want to talk about who's been giving you that sonic technology? Because I am _very_ interested in seeing it disappear forever.”

* * *

Clint fired an arrow off, not bothering to watch the it hit or the man fall. He turned, aiming in the opposite direction, but that hallway was still clear. He moved forward, looking for any more of these guys. He figured them for military, they were too organized not to be, but he'd been able to handle them so far. He didn't even know why Dick had managed to get caught—these clowns were a joke compared to the stuff Dick was used to fighting.

He kicked open a door, raising his bow, and then lowering it with a frown. “How long have you been sitting there?”

“Not long,” Dick answered, sitting smug on top of the table, looking like he was just _waiting_ for Clint to show up, like it was a game or a party, and it wasn't. “I found the store room, they found me, but I turned the conversation around.”

“So he talked?”

“Yes.” Dick held up a flash drive. “This should help us get the rest of the answers we need.”

“You went off comms.”

“They broke it when they found me. You didn't have to come to my rescue. I told you I'd be fine. The whole storming the castle thing was a little unnecessary.”

“You weren't supposed to get caught.”

“With how many times I've _been_ caught in my life, do you honestly think I'm not prepared for it? Those handcuffs were like toys, I was free within thirty seconds of being in them, and I am fine.” Dick frowned. “Your quiver is almost empty. How many of them did you run into? There was only a handful that 'caught' me.”

Clint gripped his bow hard enough to snap it. “You're not taking this seriously.”

“How many of them did you kill?”

“Does it matter?” Clint demanded, shaking his head in disbelief. He didn't understand Dick sometimes. They were on a mission, one where they were on their own, no backup or assistance. They had to do what it took to survive, not ride a moral high ground. Dick should have been aware of that from the moment they signed on for this job. “I thought they were in here torturing you.”

Dick nodded. “They weren't, and even if they were, I can take it. Let's set the charges, destroy this facility and everything in it, and beat Coulson back to the rendezvous point.”

“You know there are people here.”

“You mean there _were_ people here,” Dick said, jumping down from the table. “Now there isn't and we can go.”

“Dick—”

“We're not talking about this now.”

* * *

“What's with you two? You haven't laughed at anything since you got on the plane. That's not like you,” Coulson said, looking between Barton and Grayson, trying to decide what was going on between them. They were quiet. Too quiet. They weren't even talking with their hands.

“I'm going to go sit with May. I've had enough of the judgment in the back.”

Coulson frowned, watching Barton head up to the cockpit. Grayson waited for the door between the front and back of the plane to shut before leaning forward.

“I don't think much of the way S.H.I.E.L.D. recruits their potential agents,” Grayson said. “You want to play games to assess people's capabilities, you run them on other people. You undid _months_ of good, and I will _never_ forgive you for this.”

“Excuse me?”

“Clint killed for me,” Grayson said, his whole body showing the strain of containing his fury. “I never wanted him to do that. He hadn't killed in months because I was with him, and then we do one mission for you and it all goes away. Do you have _any_ idea—Never mind. You don't. You're a suit. The numbers are fine for you. Acceptable. This is what you wanted.”

Phil shook his head. He preferred missions without bloodshed, but sometimes it was necessary. “It was a possibility, but I figured you two were good enough to avoid casualties if you didn't want them.”

“Yeah, sure, keep telling yourself that. The whole no extraction plan doesn't inspire confidence,” Grayson said, leaning back and closing his eyes. He breathed in and out, forcing himself to calm down. “I thought this could work, that maybe we could go on working for you, that maybe S.H.I.E.L.D. was the answer we needed. It isn't. Not for me.”

“Grayson—”

“No. It isn't. I want to be with Clint, with my friend, and I would love to work with him, but I do not want to put him in another position where he kills for me. That is done.”

Phil frowned. “So you're—”

“I will _never_ join S.H.I.E.L.D. Clint might. Maybe he should. He's taken a different path from mine,” Grayson swallowed. “His... He's willing to end lives. S.H.I.E.L.D. could give him legitimate reasons to do that, but I won't.”

Phil let out a breath. “Grayson—Dick—the two of you have the kind of understanding that some teams can't develop over years of working together. You understand each other. You have your own language. Splitting the two of you up is a mistake.”

Grayson met his eyes. “I can't do what Clint does.”

“I know you don't kill. You don't have to, even working for S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“You can't promise me that, and you know it. The only guarantee of it I have is working on my own and setting my own rules. Besides, I have other things I need to deal with, things I need to deal with from before,” Grayson said. “I know Clint is good. I know he does what he does because he is protecting people—this time me, other times the past victims of the creeps he killed—and in some ways, it's admirable.”

“Yes.”

“Why can't I do it?”

“You really think you should?”

“I don't know.”

Phil nodded. “I think you still have things to work out. I know there is a job waiting for you at S.H.I.E.L.D. any time you want to take it.”

“I won't.”

* * *

“We gonna talk now?” Clint asked, sitting down next to Dick. “I know we're both better at shooting things than we are talking, but even when we were deaf there wasn't silence between us. I suppose there was that year—”

He stopped when Dick hugged him, holding on tight. Clint stiffened, not liking this at all. “You're leaving, aren't you?”

“I can't be the reason you kill, Clint. I can't be the reason you don't. I can't make those choices for you. I don't want to force you to be someone you're not when you're with me. And I don't know who I am right now. I've been lost since I left Bruce, and you did more to get me right after that than anyone, than I thought anyone could have,” Dick said. “I'm just not there yet. Bruce replaced me with another Robin, and I thought I knew what to do, how to cope with that, but I don't, and I can't make you decide that for me any more than I can decide whether you kill or not.”

Clint sighed. “I don't like it when your logic makes sense.”

“That's not logic.”

“I know.”

“We're still friends. Still brothers,” Dick insisted. “We just... need some space again. Familiarity breeds contempt and all that.”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I'm trying to tell myself that Coulson can be trusted and you'll be okay with S.H.I.E.L.D.”

“He's gonna die in that suit of his, and he has this thing about paperwork, but May seems to like him, and I like her. Plus... They're offering me a pardon _and_ people to shoot. This could be good. Better than I deserve. I'll even be able to speak to Barney again and not lie all the time about what I'm doing,” Clint said. “You can stop death snuggling me now.”

“I am going to miss you.”

“Me, too, but even if I join S.H.I.E.L.D, I'll still be there for you.”

“And even though I won't join S.H.I.E.L.D, I'll be there for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> I wasn't sure at first why Dick would refuse to join S.H.I.E.L.D. when Clint did, though I knew he had to, and when I was writing this, it finally came clear. It wasn't just about him not wanting to be too far from Babs and Jason, though that is part of it. The main reason was because of the one thing he and Clint still don't agree on.


End file.
